Chapter 3 - The Mask Cracks
By 2:00 AM, the mansion was quiet again, but the silence was heavy, suffocating, and charged with unspoken malice.
The police had bagged the food samples, taken preliminary statements from every family member, and cleared the scene, advising us that the hospital would run a full toxicology screen on Evelyn.
The rest of the family had rushed to the regional hospital to sit in the waiting room, but Daniel had stayed behind.
I sat in the library on the second floor, nursing a cup of black tea, watching the rain streak down the tall arched windows overlooking the lawn. The door to the library slammed open, crashing against the wall with a deafening crack.
Daniel strode into the room, his tie undone, his hair disheveled, his face flushed with violent rage.
“What the hell did you do, Claire?!” he roared, slamming his fist down onto my reading desk. “You switched those bowls on purpose! You knew!”
I didn't flinch. I slowly set my teacup back down onto its saucer, the porcelain making a tiny, crisp clink.
“I saw you, Daniel,” I said softly, looking up at him with unblinking eyes. “I saw you tip the white powder into my bowl from your signet ring while everyone was talking about your uncle’s golf trip.”
Daniel froze. The color drained from his face for the second time that night, but his panic quickly turned into dark, aggressive defense.
“You’re crazy,” he sneered, leaning over the desk until his face was inches from mine. “You’re losing your mind, Claire. Just like I told my mother. You’re paranoid. You’re having a nervous breakdown!”
“Save it for the judge, Daniel,” I replied flatly. “You used a tasteless, water-soluble sedative. Probably a high dose of liquid or powdered benzodiazepine or a derivative meant to mimic a sudden stroke or psychotic episode. You wanted me unconscious so you could execute those temporary incapacity documents sitting in your desk drawer.”
Daniel took a step back, his eyes darting frantically toward the locked wooden cabinet in the corner of the library where his private files were kept.
“You were snooping in my desk,” he whispered, his voice trembling with hatred.
“I didn't need to snoop,” I said, standing up from my chair and smoothing down my skirt. “You left the draft of the power of attorney sitting right beside your laptop three weeks ago. You got arrogant, Daniel. You thought because I didn't scream at your mother when she insulted me, I wasn't paying attention.”
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I walked toward the door, stopping right beside his shoulder.
“Your mother is in the ICU right now because she drank the poison you mixed for me,” I whispered into his ear. “If she dies, Daniel… you’re a murderer. And if she lives, she’s going to know her loving son did this to her.”
